


Watchpoint: Nemo

by postsfrombeyondtheveil



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Ocean, Outer Space, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postsfrombeyondtheveil/pseuds/postsfrombeyondtheveil
Summary: Watchpoint: Nemo is a facility built more than 1,400 nautical miles from the nearest land. The offshore facility has fallen into disrepair after the collapse of Overwatch, but since Winston recalled the organization, they must use this as a covert staging ground to reach the Lunar Colony. Several members of Overwatch (Pharah, Genji, and Tracer) have gone up to the colony to retrieve scientific research, while Dr. Angela Ziegler and Mei-Ling Zhou stayed behind to ensure them an uneventful return. Unfortunately for them, the return will be everything but uneventful.





	Watchpoint: Nemo

As soon as Angela steps outside, near-horizontal rain begins stinging her face. Spray spits up from the Pacific, salting her skin.  She pulls her big yellow raincoat tighter around her shoulders and places a hand atop her knit hat, to secure it against the wind. Massive waves crash against the offshore platform, blue-grey infinity stretching out into the evening storm. Angela shuffled forward, fighting the elements until she reached her destination: a breaker box. Forcing the salt-encrusted hinge open, she holds it open with one hand and works a flashlight out of her pocket. The doctor presses the button, the fluorescent light pouring out into the sky. 

One hand holding the door, the other the flashlight, she inspects the switches. Her eyes dart from label to label: “Cold Room”, “Boathouse”, “Cafeteria”, “Kitchen”, “Crew Quarters”, and finally “Landing Pad”. She tries to flip the switch with the flashlight, but it’s too big to squeeze in. She places one end of the flashlight in her mouth, balancing it between her teeth, and reaches forward with her now free hand to flip the breaker. 

In her peripheral vision, she sees the lights which guide incoming spacecraft flicker on. She turns her head to check if all the lights were working, and as she does the wind picks up and the heavy door to the breaker slips from her grasp. Swinging wildly, the sharp corner gashes the side of Angela’s cheek and the weight of it knocks her off her feet. Her flashlight clangs against the metal-grid catwalk, bounces, and rolls off. The beam of light turns end over end, tumbling into the dark surf. Angela shakily stood, soaked. One hand on her wound, she shuffles slowly back to the door she exited from. Her white-knuckled fist slams against the automated door.

“Mei, open up, please!” She shouts over the howling wind. The door slides open, and the cushy climatologist hurriedly beckons the doctor inside. 

“Oh my gosh, what happened Mercy?” Mei gingerly removed Mercy’s jacket and hung it up. “You need to get out of those clothes, you’re going to freeze!”

“It was the wind, blew the breaker shut right on top of me.” Mercy pulls off her sopping sweater and wiggled out of her drenched jeans. Mei unzips her Blizzard World hoodie and gives it to her. Angela appreciates the thought, but couldn’t help but notice how big the clothes were on her. Mei’s plump figure filled out the hoodie well, but on Mercy’s more slender body it hangs low like she was wearing a dress.

She digs a first aid kit out of storage. It’s empty. Mercy’s throat tightened at the sight. Three months into this mission, and supplies are getting dangerously low, she thought. 

Given how horrible it was to stay out here, it was no wonder Overwatch had kept this location a secret to the public. Its history was murky and strange, but its appearance was unwaveringly inhospitable.

Overwatch’s activity on the moon was no secret. Shuttles regularly departed from Gibraltar for the moonbase for scientific, training, or other purposes. These launches were generally well noticed, given the proximity to civilization. It’s hard to hide a spaceship launch, after all. So what was a secret military organization to do when they needed a covert launch? They built a facility at the coordinates furthest from land on all sides, which happens to be in the middle of the Pacific ocean. This is Watchpoint: Nemo.

Nemo is no beach paradise. The facility is criss-crossed with narrow catwalks, hundreds of feet above the murky drink. Ladders with broken rungs sprout upwards, creating a dangerous climb between exterior levels. The inside is like a submarine, claustrophobic and severe. Its notorious for depressing and agonizing agents unlucky enough to be stationed here. 

In the time since the organization shuttered, this Watchpoint had suffered the most in terms of disrepair. The unceasing beating of massive waves had rusted much of its infrastructure. Electrical systems were on the fritz and the boathouse had filled with two feet of water. Luckily, the space-faring party would arrive soon, and they could all desert this wretched Watchpoint. 

Despairing at their gloomy predicament, Angela had neglected her wound and blood had dripped from her face onto Mei’s hoodie.

“Schiisdräck!” Angela’s hand pressures the gash into letting up its flow for a time. “I’m very sorry, Mei, I should’ve been paying better attention, that was stupid of me.”

Mei giggles, “ _ Chill out, _ Doctor Ziegler. It’s okay, I have other hoodies anyways.”

“Well I still feel bad, are you sure there’s - wait.. Was that an ice pun?” A smirk sneaks across the Swiss woman’s face.

“It’s what I do best!” Mei counters. Angela shook her head disapprovingly, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. 

“We’re out of bandages, could you grab me the sewing kit and my makeup bag? I think this needs stitches.” Mercy asks.

“Don’t worry, I  _ snow _ the drill!” Mei cheerily replies as she bounces down the hallway. Angela can’t help herself but to groan.

* * *

 

She had spent years as a combat medic, but this sort of MacGyver’d solution to normally nominal procedures was beginning to wear on her. Mei holds the pocket mirror a foot away from Mercy’s face, angled at the gash, as she sutures the wound with the sewing needle and thread. She finishes, and exhales.

“It’ll scar, but at least it should heal without problem,” the doctor explained. Mei closes the mirror and handed it to Mercy, who slipped it into the pocket of the hoodie. Mei stood and stretches her back. Her midriff pokes out of the bottom of her tank, and Mercy’s medical eye notices a considerable spare tire on the scientist. She smirks, deciding on revenge for those puns earlier.

“Have you been keeping with your exercise regime, Mei?”

“Uhh,” the Chinese girl falters, unprepared for this remark, “Am I in trouble if I say no?” She looks sheepish, tugging the hem of her tank below her belly. Mercy realizes that that sort of joke would just be cruel, especially given the stress of their predicament. She doesn’t blame Mei for gaining a few anxiety pounds. 

“No, you’re fine. I was just thinking -” Before Mercy could formulate an excuse, an alarm went off. Red lights began to spin, and both of the women stand up. A crackly voice rang out over the radio, completely unintelligible. Mei’s hands flew to the control, altering frequency and equalizer until the voice came in loud and clear. 

“Mayday, mayday, papa, golf, tango, incoming crash landing, I repeat, incoming crash landing.” Mercy and Mei stared at each other, dumbstruck. The voice on the radio, it was Tracer.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this wasn't a particularly Pharmercy chapter, and that it almost leaned more towards Meicy BUT I promsie there will be plenty of Pharmercy in the coming chapters. Trust me, there will be angst, there will be love, anger, it'll have it all it'll be awesome, you've just got to trust me right now :D Hope you like it!


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